Take the Angel From the Hands of God
by Cuna999
Summary: He was sure he had fallen beyond help. He was much too tainted. He was feared; white hair, red eyes, a demonic smile. But the Angel thought otherwise, and with her emerald eyes and pure smile, she pulled him out of Hell and gave him a place beside her.


**Writer's Notes: **Ehh. I was planning to make this into a chapter fic but it turned out to be a oneshot. xD

A oneshot, because an oneshot sounds weird, even if it's grammatically correct. =/

Um. This is a somewhat dark fic. And it's freaking long because…it ended up that way. It was supposed to be a short oneshot and that did not happen. I technically could divide it up into chapters, but I don't want to because I don't like it that way. 24 pages on miscrosoft word, yay! Although it might be shorter when I actually upload it...

There's issues with this fic, but that's okay. Hopefully. Although I apologize for the short and shitty fight scene. I'm not very good with writing action.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Soul Eater_. The sentence "Mark my words. We will take that angel from the hands of God." Comes from the anime/manga _07 Ghost_. So I don't own that (or the quote from it) either. And the song that Maka sings is _Vois Sur ton Chemin_ from the movie _Les Choristes_.

* * *

_Wings of pure white,_

_Untainted by the darkness of the world,_

_Untainted by these soiled hands._

_Eyes that see everything,_

_Eyes that cleanse your soul with one glance._

_Eyes more beautiful than any jewel in existence._

_Soft, tender lips _

_That speak words of kindness,_

_Showering you with an angel's blessing,_

_Freeing you of your sins._

_She is an angel, cradled lovingly by all._

Mark my words.

We will take that angel from the hands of God.

* * *

"Well, look at that. The new ad for the Angel is out. What do you think, sir?"

The male in question opened his eyes and flicked them towards the advertisement, lights under it making it visible during the night. The girl had pure white wings sprouting from her back, cradling her thin body. A white masquerade mask covered the top of her face, and her pale pink lips were formed into an adorable smile, her short white dress hugging her figure as feathers poured out from her cupped hands. The only other color in it was the striking green of her eyes, so impossibly green it was undoubtedly CG.

The Angel. He took no longer than two seconds to look at it. His ruby eyes didn't want to see something so impossibly pure, so innocent when he was so tainted.

"She's flat chested." Was all he said before closing his eyes again.

"Oh, well…that's true. But she's quite a beauty nonetheless."

"An ad like that is all CG anyway. How much more time do we have?"

"Five minutes until we arrive at Death Manor."

The taxi driver began humming, looking at his passenger. He was young, quite handsome, but his bright white hair was…very different. Not something one saw every day. The driver had shivered when his passenger opened his eyes to take a quick glance at the ad; blood red eyes like that could only belong to someone dangerous. He couldn't help but feel relieved when he dropped him off; the atmosphere had been extremely suffocating and impossible to ease up.

The passenger watched the car drive away. He knew it hadn't been an enjoyable ride. He knew the driver had been creeped out by his hair and eyes. And the driver had never seen the white-haired teen smile—better for him.

The night was colder than he had expected, and the moon was grinning, grinding its teeth together, silently laughing with a menacing air. It would not be a pleasant night tonight.

His name was Soul Eater Evans. With that blinding white hair and unmistakable bloodred eyes, everyone knew his name…and his family name, one of the richest in the world. But Soul was an outcast, being a living weapon. A mistake. Monster. So they left him, and he didn't give a damn.

"Soul."

He turned at the familiar voice.

"Kid."

"You tired?"

"Not really. I don't sleep much anyway."

"Mission?"

"Bring it. Black Star?"

"Manor. Preparations ready. Heading out in half an hour."

"Cool. I'll just throw my crap in my apartment and meet you back."

"I'll get someone to do it. Let's head to the Manor."

"Got it."

Since he was an outcast anyway, he eventually joined up with two other guys as he roamed the streets: Death the Kid, a tall and thin eighteen-year-old with short black hair, which had three white stripes on the right side (which Kid had insisted was natural), and Black Star, a rather muscular, extremely loud seventeen-year-old with spiked light blue hair and a tattoo of a star on his left upper-arm. Both were technicians, although incapable of wielding Soul. Not that he transformed often at all; although he could defend himself, fighting or killing someone was just easier with knives than transforming a part of his body. It was actually rather difficult fighting with only some of his limbs transformed into blades, but he was useless without a meister to handle him in his full scythe form.

Kid's father, the Death God Shinigami, trained the three of them together in skill until they were good enough to be assassins. The Soul-Kid-Black Star group ranked second in the Death God's hidden organization made of living weapon and technicians, Shibusen, which offered missions ranging from helping someone to killing them, a reward given for each completed job. The identity of the first ranking group or individual remained a mystery, but no one wanted to know who was deadly enough to rank first in the Shinigami's establishment, anyway. Of course everyone knew that Shinigami-sama himself knew, but he obviously wasn't telling and no one was confident enough to ask.

Shinigami-sama did whatever he felt like (like establishing Shibusen) and allowed his members to do so as well…but he had created Shibusen, ironically, to keep peace. So long as they did their jobs from the shadows and kept their version of peace without their souls falling into darkness, it was okay. Although the cops could catch the members of Shibusen, no one had the power to go against the Death God himself. He was safe no matter what happened; he just sat and watched the world progress around him.

As for the missions, the client merely wrote it on a piece of paper and tacked it up somewhere, and if the paper was gone within three days then the mission would be taken care of. Rewards were left on top of the client's roof and would be taken within twenty-four hours.

But the three male teens had somehow ended up doing the darker jobs of Shibusen, although Kid and Black Star were like earth, varying jobs of light and dark.

However, Soul Eater Evans had already been tainted beyond help; he had already fallen to hell. He could kill someone with a straight face and in cold blood without a shred of pity. All the other members knew so and kept away. Kid and Black Star knew him better than anyone else, but they didn't know everything. They knew better than to rattle the cages where his heart had frozen.

Soul was already tainted.

All he needed to do was wait till he drowned in blood and died, leaving everything behind.

* * *

_Because Heaven's doors won't open for me,_

_The only thing left is to let myself fall_

_into the true depths of Hell.

* * *

_

The three of them ignored the muffled screams as the terrified eyes revolved in their sockets, bulging with raw fear.

"Tsk," Black Star sighed, "What a pathetic little pansy. This wasn't even worth it."

The man struggled against the ropes that binded him, screams of help prevented by the silver tape across his mouth. He had been called Jack the Ripper for his murders. He was a human. No one said Shibusen handled only demons; they handled humans with their personal forms of justice.

"Just kill him and get it over with. I have another job to go to." Kid sighed.

"What, like saving a cat?" Black Star snickered, "Right after taking a life?"

Kid sighed again. "I don't take lives. I'm the one watching."

The other two looked at the black-haired teen and smothered their laughter, because they both knew Kid could find a different way to take a life if he didn't want to physically stab a knife into a body.

"Well then, I Black Star will—"

_Pshhhk._

"Hey, Soul, I was going to—!"

"Shut up, idiot, someone might hear you. You were taking too long."

"I am the man who will surpass God! He needed to hear my speech and be enlightened by my presence before he died!"

"Well, he heard your name. Let's go before the cops come."

"NO COP CAN CATCH THE GREAT BL—"

_Thunk._

Soul and Kid's hands collided with Black Star's head, and he fell to the ground unconscious.

"If we ever get caught it's going to because of his loud mouth," Kid said, dragging his blue-haired member to a nearby car. He threw the unconscious teen in as Soul opened the door, and as Kid took his place behind the wheel, the white-haired male slid into the seat next to him.

"Your stripes are out of place." Said Soul, and his friend brushed his hair back into place with his fingers before beginning to drive. Kid sometimes had OCD spurts, so better to tell him now then let him home to go on a rampage later. The ride was silent until they returned to Death Manor, Kid's house, and also the place where Shibusen meetings were held, if they ever were.

"Soul." The almost childish, strange voice of Shinigami greeted them as they threw Black Star onto a nearby couch. "I have a mission for you." He held out a piece of paper, and the white-haired male took it without a trace of hesitation, eyes tracing over the words on the paper.

"A massacre?"

"Perhaps, if you want to call it that. This is actually a direct request from the police. The target is a criminal group who've done things you can't imagine."

Soul's lips formed a sharp-toothed grin. "Oh, really? You've never seen my imagination then. Should I get on it now?"

"Fine."

"Cool."

Kid glanced at his friend and smiled. "See you later then. Your luggage is at your new apartment."

"Got it."

* * *

_Because I'm already tainted,_

_Any more blood to coat my hands doesn't matter…_

_All I need to do is wait till I drown in it,_

_Fall to Hell,_

_And leave everything behind…

* * *

_

It certainly looked as if a massacre had taken place. It was a shame to have the floor coated in blood, because it was quite a nice room. An ebony grand piano sat in the middle, standing gloriously in a sea of blood and bodies. Soul sat himself down on the bench, tapping his black dress shoes on the floor, red liquid splashing like water. It had been a bad idea to wear one of his best pinstripe suits to this mission, but his crimson undershirt did match all the blood on the floor.

Absentmindedly he pressed a few keys, feeling nostalgic. The piano. He placed both hands on the keys and began to play. The music reflected him, so dark, and in the ears of others, frightening. It was a perfect piece to play in a scene like this, with blood covering every inch of the floor and the glazed, empty eyes of the people he'd killed looking up at him. At some point as he became more engrossed, and the piece became the music of his very soul.

He grinned as he pressed down on the last notes of the piece, turning around in his seat with his hands in the pockets to observe the room. Technically it wasn't a good idea to stay here to long, but his smile faded as he looked around. Of course, this was what he really was, a murderer. Perhaps it had been on the side of justice, (then again, what was justice anyway?) but that didn't change the fact he had put out the flames of life of ten different people. He sighed.

_Splish, splish, splish._

He could hear soft footsteps stepping on the sea of blood. It didn't take long for the figure of a girl dressed in a simple white dress to appear. Her sandy-blonde hair was tied into pigtails, white bows decorating them. Her feet were bare, but they had been dipped in blood and almost gave the image of red shoes. She was looking down at the bodies of the murdered.

Soul noticed the red marks on her wrists; she had probably been kidnapped and somehow escaped the ropes that they tied her wrists together with.

He kept silent and watched her.

As she drew closer, she looked up, and he was shocked to see how green her eyes were. So impossibly green it seemed like something only a computer could produce…

She was the Angel, he realized, as she stared into his red eyes.

There was a silence.

"…Get out of here, little girl, before I kill you too." He drawled lazily after a while. It was futile to say he wasn't the person who killed them all, nor was there was a reason to deny it either.

"You won't." She immediately responded, stepping closer, looking down at the bodies. "You don't have a reason to."

Soul titled his head and flashed her a sharp-toothed grin. "What makes you think that, Angel?"

She returned the smile, instead of her eyes widening in fear like he'd expected. He was momentarily surprised. "I won't tell you."

Her smile was so…angelically pure he wanted to run away from her at the fastest speed his legs could carry him. It scared him that she could be here talking to him right after he'd killed ten people. She wasn't even remotely frightened, standing in a floor covered with blood.

"I'm not who everyone thinks I am." She said suddenly, staring at him again with those emerald eyes. Almost like she could see through him, see his soul.

"You're not the Angel?"

"I am in the face of a camera."

Soul looked at her, although her face didn't betray any emotion he could really distinguish. It seemed as if she merely just wanted him to know more about her….which he saw no point of.

"What's your name?"

He gave her another grin, which she still didn't look at him in fear.

"I've no reason to tell you, tiny-tits."

He caught the knife she had pulled from one of the bodies and flung at him. It had nearly met its mark, but she was just a model, so the accurate aim was probably just luck.

She pouted before walking closer. "Huh. Your eyes are red."

"Like blood, right? Yeah, get that a lot." He said.

"No, when blood dries it becomes kind of brown. But your eyes don't dry up to be that color," she replied, staring into his eyes. "No, they're more like…rubies."

Soul couldn't help but laugh. "That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

She pouted again. "Well, it's true."

"Then your eyes would be emeralds?" he questioned, peering into her eyes.

"That would be nice, but I think they're more like grass. Fake grass." She sighed.

"Nah, they're definitely emeralds." He got up and walked towards the back door.

"Who's the cheesy one now?" she said, giggling. He cracked a genuine smile she didn't see.

With one hand on the doorknob, he opened the door to a cold, snowy night. He could see his breath as stared at the grinning moon put one foot out of the room.

"My name's Maka. Maka Albarn." said the Angel.

"I'm not telling you mine." Soul replied. Part of him wanted to. But as someone from Shibusen he couldn't give out him name so carelessly, and since she hadn't been scared of him he'd feel…guilty, for once, to give her a fake name.

"It's okay. I already know it."

He froze, eyes widening, heartbeat quickening.

"Soul Eater Evans. Your music was really pretty; I really, really liked it. When we meet again, play that piece again for me, okay?"

He turned so fast he nearly twisted off his neck, but she was gone. The only thing that suggested she had ever been there were the two white ribbons atop the piano.

Crossing the room again, he picked them up before stepping out into the freezing night, tucking the pure white ribbons into his pocket, leaving footprints of blood as the snow covered it and would eventually wash it away when it melted.

* * *

_Heaven's doors won't open for me,_

_But God's favorite Angel came to me_

_Smiled,_

_And told me that the music of my heart,_

_Was pretty.

* * *

_

He collapsed on his bed as soon as he got home. Somehow he felt drained, and immediately fell asleep without changing, although he had kicked off his shoes.

He awoke in the late afternoon with no sweat rolling of his forehead, no screams escaping from his lips, no images haunting his dreams. He had slept peacefully, without any nightmares. Soul had actually slept through the night without any problems for the first time in….years.

Dazedly, he realized he reeked of blood. Stripping out of his clothes and throwing them on the floor, he stepped into the shower and cranked the water. The blast of cold woke him, and he did all the grooming with shampoo and crap as the water warmed up. When he stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his scarred body, he saw the white ribbons lying partway out of his pants pocket.

The Angel's, or rather, Maka Albarn's, hair ribbons.

As the water dripped off of his skin and pooled into puddles at his feet, he crouched, picked one up and stared at it. Perhaps this was why he had slept so nicely. He grinned.

How simply and amusingly stupid. It was funny how he believed in something like that, that the Angel's hair ribbons could drive away his nightmares when all his life he only knew the harsh realities of life and death. It was like believing in those dream-catchers, catching bad, scary dreams in their nets, like believing in fairies and unicorns.

But the Angel, in all her frightening purity, seemed to have cleansed a part of him with her smile, her unfrightened emerald-eyed stare. Sighing, he dropped the ribbon and stood, sorting through his closet that a servant of Kid's had apparently stocked up for him. He selected another suit, plain black with a white undershirt and red tie, dressed, and left the room without another glance at the ribbons atop his blood-scented clothes.

* * *

"You met the Angel, did you?" Shinigami said, bouncing happily at Soul's report on the completed mission.

The white-haired teen nodded, wondering for a moment how he knew that, but this was Shinigami-sama after all. He knew everything.

"Good good. Very nice."

The death god bobbed his head and turned, signaling a dismissal, although Soul wasn't sure why he considered their meeting 'good'. She was a model, a world-class one at that, and she could easily reveal what Soul had done and even Shibusen would collapse if the whole world wanted their destruction. Even if she was the Angel, Shinigami-sama couldn't rely on the innocent image to assure Shibusen's safety.

Turning, Soul put one foot outside the door before being attacked by Black Star, excitedly throwing out questions.

"Yahoo! You met the Angel? Awesome! What was she like?"

"Flat-chested." He replied, sidestepping his friend.

"Huh. Sucks. Where are you going?"

"Recon mission. Need to attend a party."

"I want to come too! There's always a ton of food at parties!"

"Black Star. My honoured father has another job for you. Can you handle it?" Kid suddenly appeared, holding a piece of paper.

"YAHOO! THE GREAT BLACK STAR CAN HANDLE ANYTHING!"

"Great." Kid said, handing him the paper. His gold eyes glanced at Soul and then flickered towards the door. Soul grinned as a sign of thanks.

As he stepped outside he realized the sky was darkening again. He had slept more than he ever had since he was a child…usually he ran on no more than two hours of sleep. Well, this was different. He felt much more awake, more alert, more energized.

Too bad this was just a recon mission. Some blood would just complete his mood.

* * *

_Now take me,_

_Twist my being into whatever you wish._

_I am a demon, a fallen scrap of waste—_

_Still falling.

* * *

_

About five minutes after entering the party, Soul wondered why he was the one sent on a recon mission. Mainly everyone who noticed him come in noticed his eyes, and shied away. Kid was probably the best choice for this, but he had some other top secret mission only the son of a Death God could do…and Black Star was too egoistic and loud for a fancy party like this.

And this was probably important, seeing as Shinigami sent one of his second-ranking members for this job. Plus Soul, as a member of the Evans family, knew how to act like one of the rich bastards in this place, even if his parents disowned him.

Sipping at some drink that looked like alcohol but wasn't, (being drunk as a member of Shibusen at a high class party like this would get him killed when he returned to the manor, but he also had to look cool) he scanned around the room, looking for the targets he was given. Though his job wasn't to kill them (yet), Shinigami-sama had told him to observe and discover anything about potential targets, and overall dangerous people. There was always a mix of people at fancy parties.

"Ahh, Soul Evans, is it?" said a feminine voice. The person in question turned to see some rich lady with a smile that made him want to puke.

"Can I help you?" Soul replied, forcing himself to act as gentlemanly as possible.

"I've heard…rumors suggesting…you are no longer part of the Evans family. Yet…you are at this party," She said, smiling. She was definitely talking down to him. "Ah…I apologize. My name is Loretta Phirnel."

"Ahhh." Soul smiled knowingly, without showing his teeth. "Phirnel. Tenth richest family, is it?"

She smiled back, fake and sugar coated with lip gloss. "Yes, incomparable to the Evans family, but you are no longer associated with that name, yes?"

He shrugged, taking it coolly. "Yes, essentially. Evans is just a name, and it's mine. But the family itself of course, threw me out as everyone knows, so I am no longer associated with those people."

Of course the Evans family could not reveal that they had given birth to a living weapon. But of course they could not keep him around either. So they abandoned him. The news hit the papers with the speed of the Death God's Shinigami-chop (It was a childish form of punishment, yet it hurt like hell; it was a hit coming from a Death God afterall) but no one knew of his weapon form.

Narrowing her eyes, Loretta's voice became darker. "You don't seem…ashamed."

Soul's eyes looked her over lazily. She was a pretty thing, petite, a nice figure, dress dipping low to reveal cleavage that was supposed to tempt him. Her long, chestnut hair was done up, expensive looking headpieces keeping it in place and shining jewels dripping down to compliment her hair.

"Miss Phirnel, I did say I was no longer associated. If mother still cares by sending you here you can tell her that Soul Evans had no regrets. I was abandoned, and I no longer consider myself her son if she did not. And I most definitely will not return to her merely so she can use me for the family she threw me out of. For whatever reason she wishes to bring me back, tell her I have no interest in marrying you."

She blinked and smiled. "Certainly."

It wasn't difficult for Soul to see that Loretta Phirnel had been sent by his mother to try and bring him back to the household, promising the girl Soul's hand in marriage and access to the Evans fortunes. Typical of his mother. But he also knew that the girl did not really have a part in this; it was her parents who agreed to her marriage to him. She didn't like him, or the idea of being controlled, and easily complied to his rejection, so she wasn't so bad after all.

He bowed respectfully and walked away, until he was stopped by another person. A younger man this time, who was incredibly excited. A wide smile was plastered across his face, and his eyes were practically sparkling from admiration.

"Sir, you are Soul Evans, are you not?"

Soul blinked. "Yes, but—"

"Yes, yes, it's a pleasure to meet you! I've heard the Evans family children are gifted with the talent of music, please sir, what instrument do you play?"

"Er, piano, but I've given up—"

"Oh sir, please, you must let us hear your beautiful music!"

"No, I—"

"I'm sure your skills are amazing as the rumors say!"

And he was pushed towards the center of the room, where an ebony grand piano lay. Right. Of course people had to know about him as an Evans. When he was little he took the piano as his instrument, while his older brother Wes took the violin. So it was known that the Evans children played music but Soul did not play for an audience, because the audience would undoubtedly hate his music.

But looking at all the smug faces on the people who looked down at him with condescending looks, he felt irritated. And if he couldn't shed blood, then stirring the crowd a little wouldn't hurt. It was _his_ reputation afterall, which he didn't care about.

So he sat down at the piano, and all went silent.

Grinning, his delicate fingers went to the keys and pressed down, the notes resonating loudly throughout the massive room.

Even the first note sounded dark.

Two minutes into the song and the crowd began murmuring, beginning to backing away. He laughed inside but kept his face straight, red eyes gleaming. His fingers continued to fly, the notes pouring out of his heart, his life story, the darkness that had overtaken him, the love he never had…

And suddenly people were screaming.

Soul glanced at the crowd and he could see the terrified eyes of men and women alike, his music scaring them so intensely that they sank to their knees. Even if they did not understand his music, it brought out their own darknesses and fears, something humans avoided and kept hidden away.

He grinned and his fingers never left the keys.

"Stop! Stop him!" Someone screamed, but his music just seemed to become louder and louder, and he liked the terrified expressions. They were all the same, the way they all looked at him and it didn't matter because he was in control right now, he wasn't killing them, only scaring them.

_Ha. Hahahahaha! You like that feeling don't you? _

Yes, yes he did. He was asked to play and so he did, those faces weren't condescending any longer, and their screams were becoming a lovely chorus—

"_Vois sur ton chemin, gamins oubliés égarés donne leur la main pour les mener vers d'autres lendemains…"_

His fingers slowed, instinctively changing the melody to the tune of the voice. It was beautifully sweet, beautifully pure. He didn't dare to look who could possess such a voice, but he had an idea. The crowd was calming, and so was he.

"_Sens au coeur de la nuit…l'onde d'espoir, ardeur de la vie, sentier de gloire. Bonheurs enfantins, trop vite oubliés effaces une lumière dorée brille sans fin tout au bout du chemin…sens au coeur de la nuit….l'onde d'espoir, ardeur de la vie, sentier de gloire…"_

The voice had continually gotten louder as its owner approached him. His fingers left the keys as soon as the singer had closed her mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Soul asked quietly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I was invited to the party," said Maka Albarn. "Look at me, Soul."

Reluctantly, he lifted his face. She was beautifully angelic, her hair not in pigtails but an elegant bun with stray curls framing her face. Her small frame was hugged by a pure white, feathered dress that had a long train trailing behind her.

She didn't wear any makeup, and yet she was stunning. Inside his mind he immediately took back all he said about her ad being all CG. There was probably no CG involved at all.

Maka smiled at him, a little sadly.

"It was nice. Your piano."

He cracked a smile back. "Your voice was better."

And he fled. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Anywhere where Maka Albarn couldn't look at him with her beautiful green eyes, the eyes that looked like they could cleanse his very soul. Because it was pointless to believe such things.

The first time he saw her something had silently bonded them together. Their very souls had entwined without them (or was it only him?) knowing it.

But this was impossible. She was too pure. He was too scared to take her hands.

Soul found solace in an empty room. It was dark, red velvet curtains over the windows. And a grand piano in the middle of the room.

He groaned. The piano. It was haunting him. He loved the piano but he didn't want to play anymore; he had already given up but he was somehow being drawn back to it. Maybe if he smashed his fingers it would all be over.

But the fingers were a pianist's life. And deep inside he still loved the piano and still wanted to play; he could never injure the fingers he had always treasured, no matter how blood soaked they were.

But Maka. Maka Albarn. She was the only one who had ever told him that she enjoyed his music. He played once for Kid and Black Star, and their eyes looked a little wary. And he knew that her words didn't mean she just liked it, she _understood_ it, therein understanding _him_.

He was scary. Terrifying. A monster with eyes of blood. Yet only she had not thought so.

Something about her was driving him crazy. He was drawn to her. He was terrified yet intrigued and so…drunk on her very _being_ that…that…what? That he wanted to hold her?

Her very presence terrified him more than he terrified others. Their souls had resonated, he realized, it had been so subtle at the time that he didn't…sense anything.

But she was just a goddamn model! She knew nothing of his world. She probably didn't even know the first thing about weaponry, let alone battle. He couldn't drag her from her innocent, pure life into his bloodstained one.

Screams shattered his thoughts.

And then he could only think of one thing.

* * *

_Oh Angel,_

_Why did you break my fall?_

_This world and I are_

_Both hopeless things, but you and your smile_

_Say so otherwise…_

_Oh Angel, beloved by all…_

_Will you allow me to_

_Love you as well?

* * *

_

The screams were nauseating him. He was used to the screams directed at him yes, but these were just screams of raw, bloody terror. No matter how much people were scared of him they had never screamed at him with such raw fear, unless he was killing them. But then their mouths would have been closed over with duct tape.

What the hell was going on? This was only a recon mission. Nothing was supposed to happen. He hadn't even been given orders that told him to act if there _was_ any trouble, therefore whatever was happening was completely uncalled for and unexpected.

Once he returned to the main room, he identified the enemy as a kishin egg, a demon. An uninvited guest that had most likely been formed a while ago; it was massive, and gaining more and more power as it skewered the guests with its long fingers and crunched their bodies along with their blue souls. Blood was coating the floor, and he looked around frantically. The remaining guests were fleeing the room; most of them were gone now, wanting to avoid being eaten.

Where was she? Had she escaped yet? He couldn't see her white dress, if she was already dead he would never forgive himself because even if he couldn't love her than at least he could watch her as the Angel in a world he couldn't reach and he could watch her be happy but if she was dead then he would never forgive himself for letting this happen when he could have used his power to stop it he couldn't bear to see her angelic body coated in blood it would all be his fault he wasn't ordered to do anything he could run himself but this wasn't about orders anymore it was his own personal emotions that wanted to protect her how the hell could this happen at such a place nothing was supposed to happen and where was she if he couldn't see her or hear her voice amongst the lingering screams then was she already dead—

"Soul."

Someone gripped his arm, and he whirled around to see Maka staring at him intently.

"You-you're okay." He forced himself to say it casually, his widened, frantic eyes going to back normal size as he tried to calm himself. But his mind was still reeling; his voice still had a hint of hysteria.

She smiled brightly. "Of course I am. Now transform."

He was in such a hysteric daze that he did so without hesitation and without really processing what she had just requested of him. She gripped his handle and spun him with her fingers, displaying obvious skill. Ripping her dress to a shorter, more maneuverable length, she launched herself at the enemy.

Her movements were fluid and powerful, her heels skidded across the floor as she landed from slashing the demon's head. There was powerful skill in each of her slashes, taken without hesitation and with careful analyzation of the demon's weakness.

It didn't take long for it to disappear, leaving the red soul gleaming in the middle of the room.

The only noise in the room was the silent pulsing of the red kishin soul.

"Ahhhh~ We're too late~"

Shinigami-sama bounded in, and Soul reverted to human form, eyes wide as he stared at Maka after what had just happened began to process.

She bowed to the Death God and smiled. "The soul had been retrieved, Shinigami-sama. My mission is complete. I apologize for the lateness."

"No matter, I didn't expect it to crash the party~ Good thing you were here to take care of it~"

"WHAT! DAMMIT, MY SPOTLIGHT WAS STOLEN!"

Black Star's loud voice rang throughout the empty room, and Kid's voice could be heard telling him to shut up as they entered the room.

"Maka-chan! This was where you were!"

The group turned to see three girls running towards them, heels clacking against the tiled floor, echoing slightly.

"Maka! Don't run off like that, do you know how worried we were?"

"Hehehe~ Nee-chan was a wreck!"

The Angel's eyes widened. "Oh, Tsubaki. Liz. Patty."

They stopped short in from of the model, panting. One was tall with long, lustrous black hair and dark purple eyes, dressed in a pale, silk-green dress with a split down the side of her leg. The other two seemed to be twins, both had dark blonde hair and dark blue eyes, but the taller girl's hair was longer and straight, while the shorter girl's hair was a little above her shoulders and a little messy. Both were wearing matching red dresses.

"Dammit, you need to worry about yourself more as a model!" The girl named Liz scolded, eyebrows furrowing. "And your totally killed the dress…"

"But I'm okay," Maka smiled, and Soul could still only gape. "Plus this was one of your, Patty, and Tsubaki's older designs; you said you didn't care for it anymore."

"I didn't say I cared about it, I'm saying it was kind of a waste…but then again, if we fix it up it won't look too bad…nice ripping skills, Maka."

"What the hell are you?" Black Star cut in, directing the question towards the Angel, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You're the Angel, aren't you? How the hell did you defeat a demon?"

"Yes, honorable father, what is going on?" Kid asked, golden eyes confused.

The Death God bent from side to side before speaking. "Well~~" He said, "Put bluntly, let me introduce you to Maka Albarn, Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, Elizabeth Thompson, and Patricia Thompson. They make up the first-ranking team of Shibusen."

During missions, Kid, Black Star, and Soul were trained not to show emotions. But Soul thought he would go deaf from Black Star's screaming voice. His friend's eyes were bulging so much that he thought they might honestly pop.

But then he realized he and Kid were yelling too, similar expressions on their faces.

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?"

* * *

_And the Angel descended by her own will.

* * *

_

"It's not like I was making fun of you or anything," Maka said, her green eyes slightly pleading but amused as well. "You know how Shibusen works…I told you my name, but the first-ranking group is supposed to be a secret. Direct orders."

Soul mumbled something incoherent. She had known his full name without ever having met him. She was also at the scene where he'd killed ten people when no one else was supposed to be there, and as a world-class model her security should have been top-notch; the men he'd killed would have no chance in hell in kidnapping her. Tsubaki, Liz, and Patty acted as her body guards and fellow models, and as trained weapons of Shinigami-sama, there was no possible way anyone could have gotten past them to even touch the Angel. Maka Albarn was also skilled enough to take someone down with her bare hands so even if something did get past her security, she wouldn't have let herself be taken. But he had never suspected she would be part of Shibusen, let alone the first ranking group.

In the mission they had met in, Shinigami-sama had sent her there to evaluate Soul. The Death God was considering merging the first and second ranking groups, since the second ranking group was getting quite strong as well.

"So…who are you?" Soul asked, and Maka smiled.

"My name is Maka Albarn. I am a meister, mainly a scythemaster although I can handle a few other weapons okay. Like Liz or Patty; I can't wield them both at the same time. Tsubaki is more suited for someone more ninja-like, though, so although we're pretty compatible it's difficult to use her in weapon form. My father is Spirit Albarn, my mother is Kami Albarn. I am a member of Shibusen and a model."

"Spirit Albarn?" Soul spluttered. He was Shinigami-sama's current weapon. Spirit Albarn = powerful, powerful, powerful.

His daughter frowned.

"Papa's not really that amazing. He's a powerful deathscythe 'cause Mama made him into one, but he's a pretty doting type of dad."

He couldn't imagine that, but he'd never imagined Maka would be a meister, either.

"So…the Angel? Modeling?"

"Being a popular model gives me worldwide connections. It also gives me a reputation which keeps my Shibusen identity a secret so I can do more undercover missions, and of course, money to support or fix anything that goes wrong."

"So you're a pretty serious part in the organization."

"Being first rank doesn't mean just fighting skill. First rank is kind of like Shinigami-sama's…feet. Clean everything up, make sure there's ground to walk on, take care of the dangerous stuff that he doesn't handle himself."

"Feet?"

"Deathscythe is Shinigami-sama's right hand, and something just as skilled needs to go in his left. Feet because first rank is important but not as important as his hands."

"That's…weird logic."

"But it works."

The group was currently on their way back to Death Manor, Maka and Soul falling behind a little to have a private conversation. Black Star was being loud as usual, and Tsubaki actually seemed to be getting along with him okay, applauding his display of skill. Liz, Patty, and Kid didn't say much but walked along each other in a comfortable silence. Although Patty eventually started singing. Shinigami-sama used his ways to get back first, and was waiting for them when they arrived.

"Hrrrrmm," was the first thing he said, bending from side to side again, thinking.

"What's wrong, honourable father?" Kid asked.

"…"

There was a silence before the Death God clapped his huge hands together.

"Alright! I'm merging the first and second rank group."

"YAHOO! ONE STEP CLOSER TO BEING A GOD!" Black Star yelled, before continuing. "NO, I WILL BE THE MAN TO SURPASS GOD! THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING…"

Kid and Soul just looked slightly surprised.

"What do you think, Maka-chan, Tsubaki-chan, Liz-chan, Patty-chan?" Shinigami-sama asked.

The four girls observed the three guys with a critical eye.

"Soul would probably be dress clothes," Maka said, "He looked pretty good in a suit. Casual dress would also be fine."

"I think Black Star-san would be good in casual clothing. Maybe something stylish-athletic. Assassin-like. With chains." Tsubaki decided.

"Uuuhh…your son would probably look in something casual dressy." Liz shrugged, and Patty laughed. "Heehee, or casual~" she sang.

"Hmmm, so they're all relatively similar," Shinigami-sama summed up. The three males looked confused.

"Well, with Maka and Soul together we can also create a new line, using her nickname." Liz grinned, and Patty cheered in the background. "She's been acting like an angel long enough. But of course, her other side must be kept a secret. The Angel must be kept pure and lovely in the eyes of others."

"We could make Soul-kun the main model and not show her face," Tsubaki suggested.

"This isn't cool," Soul interrupted, "At least tell us what's going on."

Maka smiled.

"I told you modeling gave us worldwide connections. If you're going to be in the first-rank group, you need those too. So, you'll be entering the modeling world."

There was a silence while they blinked.

* * *

Soul groaned, fumbling with the black pinstripe suit. "I've never felt uncomfortable in a suit until now," He grumbled as Black Star made chaos in the background. Kid had a bit of an OCD spurt and was organizing the supplies symmetrically.

The studio was more chaotic than he thought. It was owned by Shinigami-sama (unsurprising, although he used one of his many fake names since the Angel wouldn't look as pure if the company was owned by a death god) so the staff were trusted and incredibly skilled, in makeup, fashion, and battle. Some were members of Shibusen, as well.

"Maka-chan, are you ready?" Tsubaki called to her friend who was inside a changing room.

"Yeah," came a muffled reply. "Just gimme a second…actually can you help me out?"

Tsubaki stepped into the dressing room and after a few moments, the two stepped out. Soul's eyes widened and his jaw dropped for a split second before he remembered to close it.

They were having a shoot to test out their new brand, Maka's nickname (whatever it was, it was so uncool how no one told the newbies anything). She was dressed extremely differently from her regular 'Angel' image. They had put a black wig over her blonde hair, extremely long like a princess's and curled slightly. It looked ridiculously real, even though its shade of black was so dark that it couldn't have been natural. They had fitted some special-effect contacts into her eyes—a piercing, devilish blue. The dress was also amazing by itself; the straps criss-crossed at the neck, leading down to a black leather corset with laces that covered the plain bodice of the dress. The skirt was tiered, silk fabric, tulle, and lace peeking out from underneath each other, flowing out around her like a cloak of darkness. The back had ruffles of tulle and lace, with black roses at the waist. It looked somewhat like a gothic wedding dress.

Maka smiled at Soul's expression.

"Well?"

It took him a moment to answer.

"You…look like a completely different person."

She laughed, and Tsubaki went to get the jewelry she was supposed to wear with the outfit. Maka lifted up the dress a bit so she could walk, and sat down on a chair near Soul.

"The shoot is going to start in half an hour. Are you ready?"

He shoved his hands in the pockets of the dress pants and looked down a bit. "I've never modeled."

"You're nervous?"

Maka tried to peek at his expression, her tone a little disbelieving.

"No, I've always done my job right. Without fail. I'm not sure this is going to go so well." The white-haired teen said, lifting his head to look at her. He shrugged, and the girl smiled at him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm your partner, remember? I'll help you out."

He grinned. She didn't flinch at the sight of it. Her own smile only widened.

She held out her hand, and he took it.

"Cool."

"Maka-chaaaaan!" Tsubaki was running, heels clicking against the floor, hair flying behind her. In her hands was a box.

"Okay," the elegant weapon gasped, "We have twenty minutes. Put these on while I fit your jewelry."

Maka was handed a pair of black leather gloves with ribbon to lace up her arms. Soul helped her crisscross the ribbons and tie them, while Tsubaki picked out some simple black earrings and other dark, gothic accessories for her hair. She wasn't supposed to wear anything silver, or anything that would reflect light.

"Fifteen minutes!" An assistant called, and Tsubaki snapped her fingers.

"Liz! Makeup!"

"On it!"

The taller twin rushed over with a makeup box in her hands and a somewhat evil look in her face. Maka's eyes widened before immediately closing them, and Liz moved in with a brush and a palette in her hands. While she did that, the black-haired weapon called for the shorter twin.

"Patty! Hair! And get the teeth!"

Patty skipped over with a lollipop in her mouth and a brush on the other. She handed Maka two sharp teeth that she was supposed to put in her mouth, to give her a somewhat vampiric, or mischievous cat, look. Running the brush through the wig, she removed any tangles and added some more curls with a very, very lightly heated iron so she wouldn't ruin the synthetic fibers of the wig. "Done~" She sang after a few moments. She sat down and swung her legs.

Despite her childish appearance (except her chest) and actions, Soul couldn't help but be amazed at her skill. She had performed it extremely fast, and although she made some basic changes, the hair looked much more…full. Styled.

"Done." Liz said, standing back looking triumphant. She started packing away the makeup.

"And done," Tsubaki finished, adjusting some black lace in her hair.

Maka stood, looking much more gothic than she did before. But she was…beautiful. Cool. Hellishly pretty. Her blue contacts glowed, but she smiled at Soul and held out her hand. He took it.

"On set!" the cameraman commanded. The background was black. Just black. Yet even though Maka's clothes and hair were black, she stood out.

"I'll leave the poses to then, Maka-chan, since this is yours," he said, grinning. Maka rolled her eyes, and stationed Soul in front of her. She pulled up a short stool and climbed up on it, so she could be a little taller than Soul. Her long, flowing dress covered the stool.

She looked at Soul, and he looked at her. She tilted her head to one side, and smiled.

"Have anything?" asked the photographer.

"…Yeah," Soul replied.

"Into position!"

Maka bent down and hovered her head about an inch above Soul's right shoulder, pulling her lips and expression to a mischievous smile. Soul's right hand cupped Maka's cheek, and he gave the camera a vacant, dazed expression. Her hands snaked down his chest, claiming him as hers.

"Perfect!"

Lights flashed.

"Soul, could you give me a different expression?"

Instead of mesmerized, he gave them a focused, sharp-toothed grin. They were both mischievous, this time claiming each other as theirs.

_Snap. Snap. Snap. _

Soul shifted positions, and he motioned for Maka to bend down a little more. He moved and stayed in a position that looked like he was whispering into her ear, a grin on his face. Maka put a finger to her lips and smiled at well, her sharp incisors showing like a mischievous cat's.

They kept changing their poses, and the camera kept flashing. Finally, Soul and Maka lay down, arms and fingers entwined, eyes closed. An assistant added some red paint to make it look like blood on both their faces and around the set. Another assistant threw some blue rose petals around, and Maka opened her piercing eyes and but on an extremely dark look, making the scene look like she was twistedly happy in killing Soul. As she changed her expression, her eyes were sad, as she looked at him and cupped his face.

"All right! Good job!"

The two models got up, and after a few moments Tsubaki and Liz arrived and handed them damp towels to wipe off the red paint.

"That was amazing!" Tsubaki said happily. She was dressed in a pale yellow shirt with ruffles and a star outlined in black on the left breast, and jeans that showed off her curves. She wore red sneakers and black fingerless gloves, and a cute red hat atop her hair that was tied into two low pigtails. She had been modeling casual clothes with Black Star, who was wearing a black turtleneck-like shirt with a silver cross down one side, and jeans with blue sneakers. The short-sleeved shirt showed off his muscles and his star tattoo.

"Lookin' sharp, Soul!" He said, grinning. The two slapped high fives.

"You don't look half bad yourself," Soul returned. Although it was casual, Black Star did look good. His lightly muscled physique and boyish expressions matched Tsubaki's elegant, slim figure and slightly shy personality well. They seemed like two unlikely people that would be together, but were anyway.

"The symmetry in the clothes is amazing. As expected of my father." Kid seemed extremely happy as he made his way over, although he was ignoring Tsubaki and Black Star's shirts, which only had a star and a cross on one side. And stars were not symmetrical.

Kid himself was also dressed in a black suit, although more casual than Soul's. It had two white strips on the arms, and a skull held together the collar by his neck. Liz and Patty wore casual red dresses and posed on either side of Kid. The twins had apparently grown up on the streets before they met Maka and Shinigami-sama, so they respected Kid's demeanor and sophisticated way that was new to them. But Kid also liked the way they were so tough and mature _because_ they grew up on the streets. Although all three of them had rather goofy personalities, their respect for each other made them work together very well, especially under critical situations.

"Well. That was certainly a very different experience," Kid said, coughing. "I suppose we should return to the manor now. Father wanted to give us more details about our group. "

Everyone returned to their dressing rooms and changed into more casual, everyday clothes. Black Star and Tsubaki didn't have to change, but they did anyway. Afterwards, they piled into a van and a driver began to bring them back to Death Manor. Tsubaki and Black Star sat together on the first row of seats, Kid, Liz, and Patty on the next, and finally Soul and Maka in the very back.

"Well? How did you feel?" the green-eyed Angel asked. She was more adorable now without the gothic clothes, and her purity shone through her eyes…but somehow, after that session, he wasn't so…scared of her anymore.

"It was…cool," he replied, for lack of better wording. She laughed.

"Find anything new?" She asked, staring into his eyes. There was a different meaning behind her words. He was silent for a moment, before something came to him.

"…What was the new brand's name again?"

It occurred to him that no one ever told him what Maka's nickname was, what the clothes they had just modeled was going to be under.

Her lips formed a grin, a grin that would have fitted those clothes with its mischievousness.

"Angel of Death," she replied.

There was a pause before Soul began laughing. Black Star stopped his chaos and turned, as did Kid. They both smiled, because there was no darkness in his laughter.

"What's up?" Liz asked.

"Did'ja hit your funny bone?" Patty questioned, peering curiously at the white-haired teen.

"I told him my nickname," Maka said, "The Angel of Death."

Realization seemed to dawn on Kid and Black Star, and they started laughing too.

"Perfect," Kid said, "Just perfect."

Maka shrugged, and smiled. Tsubaki seemed to understand, but Kid would have to explain to Liz and Patty later. Well, maybe only Patty, if she cared to know.

The Angel of Death. Soul had been so scared because he was afraid of her purity. Sure, she still was, with those green eyes and words of an Angel that had saved him, that made him normal and not a freak. But she was also deadly. Deadly, strong, not tainted, yet aware of the dark reality. The Angel of Death that ferried souls to Heaven or Hell…he was saved. She had saved him. She had pulled his arm and dragged him out of delirium, out of the hell that she didn't think he belonged in. They were partners. Like the image they were modeling, she caught him, but in reality, he was saved by her deathly embrace. Within the entire group, no one really 'claimed' the other as their partner. They sort of just…drifted together. Such was the power of souls, of their wavelengths.

Maka smiled at him as Kid, Black Star, Liz, Patty, and Tsubaki fell into chaotic conversations. Her smile said so much that couldn't be expressed in words.

He grinned. "That means I caught you too."

"Angels love music," she replied, "Especially music that comes from the soul. Did you notice? You were kind of…calling out to me."

He hesitated before answering. "I don't know. I think subconsciously, I did know I was." He shrugged. "But it's more cool to answer someone else's call rather than to have yours answered. Especially when it has to do with emotions."

Maka pouted, and he grinned.

"But the Angel of Death, huh? That's pretty cool." He leaned back against the seat comfortably and crossed his legs, hands in his pockets. "

"Do I pass?" She asked, grinning. "Aren't you happy that you're partners with such a cool girl?"

He shrugged indifferently. "You're flatchested, but I guess that's okay."

"Maka-chop!"

"OW! What the hell was that?"

She held a huge, thick book in her hands, pulled out from seemingly nowhere. Soul swore that he did _not_ see any books in the car. And she didn't have enough cleavage to hide something like _that_. (Soul was also not be perverted. He just saw in movies –and real life, being part of Shibusen and all- how women pulled out a gun or a flashlight or some other necessity out from between her breasts.)

"It was a Maka-chop." Maka said, putting the book in her lap. The white-haired rolled his eyes and massaged his head.

There was a silence between them and Soul closed his eyes, enjoying the chaotic peace of the car. Maka spoke again after a while, very quietly.

"Soul?"

"Hm?"

"Will you…play for me again? The piano?"

Soul opened his eyes.

"Maka, you're probably the only one I will ever play for."

"…Eh?"

"You probably understand without me telling you." He shrugged, and yawned sleepily. "Lend me your shoulder."

"Eh? Ah, okay…Good work today."

Normally it would be the other way around, but Soul was too tired to care. Besides, Maka didn't mind if he was cool or not. She accepted him as he was.

"Hm? Soul and Maka stopped talking," Liz said after half an hour. Everyone turned back to see why.

"Gosh, how did they became so close even when they just became partners?" Liz said, a little jealously.

"Well, it's a good thing. They understand each other very well afterall," Tsubaki said, smiling happily.

"Nice, Soul!" Black Star said (surprisingly) quietly, holding his thumb up.

Patty somehow got ahold of a camera and began to take pictures, grinning evilly. Kid just smiled.

Maka had fallen asleep too, but she slid down a little and now Soul's head was resting against hers. Her head wasn't on top of Soul's, and his wasn't on top of hers. They were equal, leaning against each other for support. Unconsciously, their fingers had entwined loosely, relaxed expressions on their faces.

"Soul's sleeping for once," Kid observed. "And in front of people. I dare say that Maka is a perfect match for him, he's changed considerably since they're first meeting."

"Oh yeah, Shinigami-sama set up their first meeting, right? He wanted Maka to observe Soul," Liz remembered, opening a box of snacks. "Wait, was Shinigami-sama playing matchmaker? That's weird."

Black Star laughed loudly, although the sleeping couple didn't wake up. "Gods do what they want! And this is Shinigami-sama, after all!"

"Yes, honourable father does do as he pleases…"

"Hehehe!" Patty laughed, "This is going to be fun when they wake up!"

The ride lapsed into chaotic peace again.

* * *

_And so the Angel was not taken from the hands of God,_

_Rather,_

_The Angel was a Messenger of Death, free to do as she wished._

_By her own will and power she saved_

_A poor soul that was not doomed to Hell, _

_Yet not pure enough for Heaven._

_That poor soul and she unknowingly bonded_

_With inseparable strings that tied together their fates and destinies_

_Where they combined together_

_As weapon and technician. _

_With their bond, their strength, their skill, their love,_

_The poor soul and the Angel of Death_

_Produced a power that rivaled_

_The Gods themselves.

* * *

_

_Fin._


End file.
